It’s not because my lawyer was so good, but because of his actions in the courtroom that my jaw actually did drop.
In 1998 I was hit by a car driven by an elderly blind driver while I was training for a triathlon. It was the end of my cycling career. It took me two years just to learn to walk again, and it was about at the end of this time when the case came to trial.
I didn’t have a lawyer in those days, living blissfully in a world where I believed if you lived a good life lawyers were just leeches. But while I laid in the hospital with plasma dripping from my many wounds my boss came to visit me and gave me the name of a torts lawyer he knew. I ended up in his office on crutches and he appeared before me in a dark, conservative suit and tie and a grave expression on his face. In a large conference room filled with leather and oak he asked me pointed questions and for a description of the incident. He took notes. His assistant did all kinds of lawyer things. He told me to get ready for the long haul - that sometimes these cases took as many as seven years to conclude. His most memorable expression was, “The law cannot give you your health back. The best substitute for that is money, and it’s a poor substitute.” He also disabused me of the notion that I would end up with “millions” as people think they will after an accident. A dirty little secret of the insurance industry is that they only pay up to the amount of insurance a driver is required to carry. In Massachusetts, the minimum is 100,000 - but the maximum is about 300,000 (plus expenses). If you want more, then you have to go after their other assets, such as their bank accounts, house, car and so forth and each additional step requires more time and legal expense and the system is stacked against the person suing. Even if you win, as I discovered, the insurance company absolutely will not pay. “For every day they don’t pay,” he said, “they are making money on the money they owe you. It’s to their advantage to delay it as much as possible.” Even after I won it took almost a year to get the money from the sleazebags at Liberty Mutual and I only got it when we sued the woman’s homeowner’s insurance and that insurance company in turn sued Liberty Mutual. It was like pulling teeth, with all kinds of deceptive offers. When I was first hit by the car, someone from Liberty Mutual showed up at my house and offered to “buy me a new bike” if I signed a document absolving them of liability.
The first day of court happened to be my first day without crutches. I was so happy that I wanted to show that I could walk. Because it was court, I put on my best suit and tie, shined my shoes and staggered to the court house. I still thought it would be like television. Instead it was a bedlam of screaming children and strollers, single parents, fat court police, metal detectors and stunk of sweat and body odor. The oaken panels of the courtroom were defaced with grafitti and carvings from the multitudes who had sat waiting and bored in the audience and docks for hours for their turn at justice.
When I saw my lawyer I was astounded to see him in a loud, hounds tooth sport coat and a stained tie, which was askew even though it was only 9 AM. Where was the well-groomed, conservatively-dressed lawyer I had met in a richly-appointed office? When he saw me, he immediately got angry. “Where are your crutches?,” he asked me impatiently, “Go get them and don’t let me ever see you without them again.” I had to worm my way through the throngs of check kiters, welfare cheats and shoplifters to my car to get the crutches.
One thing about the “Justice System” in America - when a man commits a crime it’s his wife/girlfriend and children who suffer the most. It was like a face slap watching them “clear the court”. Almost all the people I saw were young, in their early 20s and every crime I saw was a crime of desperation where people were robbing Peter to pay Paul, or usually, feed their children. There were no jewel heist masterminds, no gun-toting back door men kicking in doors. There were no murderers or kidnappers. I was the only “civilian” in the court wearing a suit. Nearly every single person I was with in the court while waiting my turn was a gray, beaten-down, marginally-educated loser with a blue collar job and his family and screaming babies who watched him “pay the Bailiff” or get a court date.
When it was my turn the court was nearly empty. Everyone else had been dealt with, swiftly and without explanation. When they tried to explain something to the Judge, they were told “See the Bailiff” and dragged off. This wasn’t really a trial court, just one to ascertain how the case should be disposed, fine or trial, remand or release. The Prosecutor was an Assistant DA who looked like a fifteen-year-old boy in a suit. The woman who hit me looked like a fat, matronly grandmother dressed in mourning black and weeping into a handkerchief. Her lawyer did all her speaking for her. Unlike my lawyer, who was slumped in the bench, this lawyer actually did wear a suit, a wrinkled, frumpy suit. The Prosecutor laid out the case and I was in awe - he knew more about it than I did. The State knew everything. Later I would go shake his hand. The woman had been charged with a felony - reckless endangerment - and lots of civil driving crimes. The Judge was about 150 years old, with wispy white hair going in all directions on his head. He slumped over the bench like a man at a bar who had one too many boilermakers and I thought he was dead. On either side of him the flag of the state and country hung like dishrags in the oppressive heat and humidity of the courtroom. But for me this was electric - my case, my turn, my life. For everyone else, from the sleepy, immensely fat court police officers with their bellies hanging over their gun belts, to the bored lawyers who had done this a thousand times, it was a tedious formality they had to do to get through every day.
The prosecutor outlined the case. The woman, standing in front of the judge weeping, waited while her lawyer defended her. Her defense was that it was “my fault” she hit me. In less time than I could imagine the Judge banged the gavel and found her responsible and “See the Bailiff”. Suddenly, my lawyer was animated, and on his feet. He hadn’t said a word during the entire proceeding, simply slumping in the hard wooden chair next to me. But as soon as the gavel pounded the bench he leaped up and started punching the air. “Yes!,” he hissed out, “Yes!” I looked at him in jaw-dropping amazement. “I know you don’t understand,” he said to me ebulliently, “But this is an enormous victory. Judges almost never find old people guilty of anything - they’re old too. They relate. But his finding her guilty kicks the legs out from under the insurance company. They can’t fight us in court. They have to pay. We win! We win!”
For him it meant he would get his 1/3 cut in two years instead of seven and he didn’t have to waste time sending motion after motion to get the insurance company to pay. As it was, it still took a year of motions to get the money out of them. I never saw the lawyer again. After that it was all clerks who handled the settlement. I don’t even remember his name.
First things first: those fraternities aren’t like the ones you know in America, there is no political influence, there aren’t houses that are property of the fraternity and everything goes.
Basically, the existence of those clubs started to just group students that were a bit homesick together, so they would be able to talk to people in the same dialect, share stories about shared friends at home, …
Nowadays, they’re more an excuse to go out, have fun, drink, sing and enjoy the last years before joining the working force.
That being said, one evening, two of their newest members went home after a meeting, preparing for a one-week hangover, when they pass the site where they were building a new administrative building for the city.
Hey, look, there are bulldozers and such over there!! Let’s go check if we can sit in them!
Let it be noted that students, especially when having only 1.2 ml blood in their alcohol, are usually not known to make the world’s smartest decisions. So, in they went, and they managed to get in two machines, similar to these Evenin their far-from-sober condition, it didn’t take both youngsters long to figure out both machines still had the keys on them, so they decided to take them for a ride.
Now, mind you, this was 2, maybe 3 am in the morning, and not at all far from people’s residences, people getting mad because they had to go to work the day after, calling the police to complain:
Is this a frickin’ hour to work on that stupid building? Seriously, we won’t be mad if it takes an additional day to build, but I need my sleep!
He turned off the engine, got out of the bulldozer as fast as he could and started running. Seeing as he was still drunk, quite obvious he didn’t make it very far.
Instead of getting out of the vehicle, he drove it over the fence ‘guarding’ the site, and drove off. Now, he closed the cabin from the inside, so that way they couldn’t get him out (unless he opened up). He drove for a few hundred meters, where they blocked his way by crossing the road with two police cars. which looked a bit like this:
Now, in my opinion, there wasn’t much else they could do, but they had rather be grateful the kid had sobered up a bit and hit the brake.
Now, the police apprehend both suspects, and are all very proud of a nights good work, making sure that “justice will be served”.
The company that was working on the building immediately pressed charges against both students, which could lead to serious problems later on in life.
Sure, they shouldn’t have done this, but in the end, there was no real victim here. Nobody got hurt, sure the fences should be paid for, and some people lost about an hour of sleep, which is annoying, but no really a capital offence.
So, those kids were a bit down on their luck, when the president of their club received a phone call from one of their alumni, who was currently working as a lawyer.
Guys, this was freaking hilarious!! Don’t worry about the charges, I’ll deal with those.
And, for the students, that was about all she wrote.
So, the next day, the lawyer of the story, still grinning about a couple of drunk kids doing what they do best: proving to the world that they are, in fact, a couple of drunk kids, walks up to the offices of the company that is suing them, and asks if he can speak with someone to discuss the case of his clients.
Lawyer: Hi, I’m the lawyer representing students X and Y, and am here to see if we can discuss their case.
Guy (don’t know a name or function here): Well, though we do appreciate you coming all the way over here, there’s really not much to discuss that won’t be handled in court.
Lawyer: Surely, there might always be the case of mistaken identity of at least one of my clients. Considering the way they were handled by the police, as far as I have been informed they did not ask for identification, nor did they take fingerprints. For them, the case was not all that serious, but this means that your best shot at proving my clients were even on your site, is debatable at best.
Guy (looks around): Listen, sir, you must understand that we do understand the situation of a university city… There are tons of impossibly drunk characters roaming around, so we make sure to secure our sites, both with fences and state-of-the-art security cameras. For, there is no doubt of the guilt of your clients.
Lawyer (still trying to save something ) But surely there is room for mistakes here. Those camera’s must really be at the exact correct angle, moment, … to show their faces.
Now, the guy understood that the lawyer was just doing his job, but he started to pity him a bit. After all, this was a poker-game where the company had a Royal Flush, while the lawyer couldn’t even dream to get a hand together that could possibly meant anything.
Guy: You know what, I’ll show you what we have. That way you’ll know our case is solid, and you won’t have to spend hours on trying to deal with this case.
He guides the lawyer, whose face has become a little more grim, to a room where they have a TV with a player. The guy pops in a DVD (or a VHS, don’t remember which one exactly), and presses play.
Unfortunately for our two nightly drivers, this wasn’t just a security system for those days. It was one like they appeared in the movies. You know it was possible to make something like that (or at least it would be in the near future), but nobody had surveillance like this. Very decent quality, focus on movement, and moving camera’s. Long story short, they had over a dozen good pictures of our two heroes, entering the lot, getting in the vehicles, actually finding the keys and driving off.
Guy: You see, sir, there is really nothing you can do here. It’s quite obvious of even the first images, that it were in fact your clients, and that they were drunk off their ass. They trespassed on the site, got in the machines and started driving around. Later on, one of them drove the roll over the fences.
Besides all of the nuisance for the neighbors, this gave us additional costs of several thousands of dollars. Your clients are responsible for this.
Debating that is pointless, you see, we’ve got a video that proves all of this.
Needless to say, the lawyers face looked as if he had spend the last five years in a blizzard, and just heard ‘bad news was on the way’.
Lawyer: Yeah … I see … I guess … Nyeah. [Moment of silent thinking] Could I please have a copy of the video? That way, I can add it to my files as well, in case my clients would want to sue me for not doing everything I can.
Guy: Visibly cheering up, because the lawyer seems to take it well, and doesn’t seem to be even willing to put up a fight:
Sure, I’ll get you a copy, it’ll only take a minute. In the meantime, please, enjoy this coffee. I understand that this is quite a setback for you.
So, for a few minutes, the crushed, defeated and broken shell of a man, that was formerly known as ‘lawyer representing students X and Y’, just sits there, drinks his coffee in silence, and waits for his copy of the video.
Guy: Here is your copy of the footage sir. With our compliments.
Lawyer, while handing back his cup: Thanks. Now, about those charges….
When exactly were you planning on dropping those? You understand that my clients are just two kids, they really don’t need all this additional stress, especially not with exams coming up.
Guy, totally baffled: Excuse me sir, I think you still don’t really understand the situation, and the gravity of the consequences for your clients.
Lawyer: No, my friend. I understand the situation just fine, it’s you that don’t seem to understand. Let me walk you through it.
At the beginning of our meeting, you mentioned that you were aware that it is a university city, and that (I quote) “ There are tons of impossibly drunk characters roaming around, so we make sure to secure our sites, both with fences and state-of-the-art security cameras.” Next, you go on to not only tell me, but to proceed a high-definition video footage of both my clients, of whom we both agree can easily be seen that they are, in fact, as you mentioned, ‘drunk off their ass’, and still they made it on your companies site unattended. The security of that site is not an optional task for your company. You are bound by law to make sure that it is secure. Seeing as they managed to get in there, in their condition, that only goes to show that your company obviously failed to meet the legal requirements.
Now, in one of the next takes, we see that both boys find the keys of those machines on them. In legal terms, this is considered provocation, which is punishable by law.
If your company had bothered to respect the law, and their legal duties, my clients would have never made it on your site, let alone cost you a cent.
So, let me put it this way: If by this time tomorrow, my clients have not been informed that every single charge against them is dropped, and this is nothing more but an awkward memory, I will start pressing charges for your infringements on the law, causing my clients to make theirs.
This will lead to your company losing this contract, and probably several more in time to come, and it will lead to you being considered the original guilty party in the case of my clients. And, just so you know:
Debating that is pointless, you see, I just happen to have a video that proves all of this.
Followed by a dramatic exit, leaving the ‘Guy’ standing there speechless.
In less than five hours, his clients received news that ‘all charges would be dropped’, and the case was now dismiss Not one, but 2 actually. One is my childhood friend’s dad. He was a prosecutor, then a federal prosecutor, then i think went into private practice after that. Where he defended everyone from outlaw motorcycle clubs, to members of the mafia. He was offered a seat as a federal judge, even. After 40 years of practice retired. The other was/is a divorce attorney. I went to her office to try and get this person to represent me in my own divorce. After talking with her for barely 10 minutes….i was sobbing in front of her. She’s beyond good, excellent! Had me pegged from “Nice to meet you.” pretty much. Describing the list of demands that i would have to do on my end of the deal. I quickly realized that i had just picked the female version of the “Bruce Lee” of divorce attorneys and there was NO WAY i could keep up. I eventually asked how she got into law practice, and she unbelievably told me from begining to present moment in front of her desk. I think that she is so good at what she does , because from what she told me… she got so beyond royally screwed during her divorce, that it literally drove her to study law. Almost like a kind of revenge. Her own experience with the divorce courts fueled her in her fighting for her clients. Which were mostly millionares, or multi millionares that mistakenly married, or got pregnant, then married the opposite sex under some kinda duress. She even at one point paused, looked me right in the eye, and said “I’m not going to tell you what i’m about to say next to brag. But i pick and choose my clients more strictly because i have more than i can just about handle. Don’t believe me?” I followed her eyes to the side of her desk, and to the floor. There were stacks and stacks of cases pending like newspaper bundles all neatly in their places starting evenly with where her desk started, all the way behind her, to the wall. All her filing cabinets were full. All pending cases! I’m no millionare, not by a longshot. For me to have a million bucks today, i would need $999,940.oo. All i got is $60.oo on me as we speak. And even that i had to borrow to make it till the begining of next month. At the time i had consulted her proffessional advice, i had a union job, was pulling in over $50–60,000.oo per year. Like Henry Hill says at the end of “Goodfellows”, “and now…it’s all over.” That’s my true life story of meeting an attorney that made my jaw drop…not once, but twice.
This time around, before I went to prison, I was in Dallas County. I was going back and forth to the court upstairs to talk to my lawyer. I was told that the DA wanted to take me to trial and file a Habitual on me. This means that they wanted to give me a lot of time for being a repeat offender. At first, my lawyer was rude and would yell at me “You're going to do a lot of time! These people are not playing anymore. If you don't sign for five years right now they are going to file a Habitual.”
Me: “Look, I have a drug problem. I've been struggling with anxiety for most of my life, and this is why it's hard for me to stay away from opiates.”
Lawyer: “Do you honestly think that the DA is going to buy that crap?”
Me: “Sir, you act like you're working for the fucking prosecutor. Are you on my side or their side?”
Lawyer: “I've seen guys like you come and go all of their lives, and it's always the same, sad story. If I was you, I would just sign for the five years and run with it. You'll be out in two years, no problem.”
Me: “You don't give a flying fuck what happens to me! You just want to get this over with so that you can get a check.”
Lawyer: “Are you aware that I took your case Pro-Bono ? I have my own law firm, and a few lawyers under me. Do you even have any idea who I am? I'm trying to help your ass, boy!”
Me: “Why are you so fucking rude? You didn't even ask me if I was innocent. Is it my tattoos, the fact that I'm in a detox dorm?”
Lawyer: “Look, I didn't even know that you were in detox. What type of drugs do you use?”
Me: “Did you even read the police report? See, you don't even know that. How am I supposed to trust you? I'm not signing for any time. If you're going to keep insisting that I plead guilty and sign for time, I'm going to refuse your counsel.”
Lawyer: “I'll tell you what you can do: You can go in there and do an open - plea.”
Me: “Open plea?! Are you fucking crazy? I'll get the maximum if I go open plea! You're just trying to get me out of the way, just like all the other guys. You're no different. My life is not a game of cards, and I sure as hell don't want to take that gamble.”
Lawyer: “Look, this judge is known for sending inmates to rehab if they ask for it. If you really want to change your life, go open plea, and tell her that you want help. You have a better chance to get probation with rehab as one of your stipulations.”
Me : “OK, let's get this over with right now.” I waited about an hour in a cold holding cell with no blanket and an empty stomach. They wake us up at 4: 30 a.m. to go to court in Dallas County.
When my lawyer came back out, he said, “She's ready for you Mr. Lechuga. Go in there, and be honest. Don't mess this up, be respectful, and don't answer any questions that have not been asked. This judge has a very short fuse.”
Me: “What are my chances of receiving rehab with probation? Be honest!”
Lawyer: “You have a fifty-fifty chance.” I was placed in handcuffs and my hands were strapped to a leather belt around my waist. I was very nervous, and I felt a panic attack coming on. I was hyperventilating, I was scared, I was hungry, and I was sleepy. As soon as the officer walked me through the court room door, my lawyer waved him off and took me by my arm. The judge was a pretty, petite black woman, and she was smiling. I had the oddest feeling that everything was going to work out for me. My lawyer looked me in my eyes and said, “Don't worry Mr . Lechuga. Everything's going to be fine.”
The judge admonished me about my rights, explained that I was at the mercy of the court, and asked me if I was OK with this. She looked at me with a penetrating gaze, but instead of feeling afraid, I felt a peaceful blanket cover me. I was no longer cold, I was no longer sleepy. The judge said, “Mr. Lechuga, why are you here today?” As soon as I heard this, I started bawling and talking really fast. I was sniffling in between words as she paid close attention. The judge picked up a napkin and wiped a tear off of her cheek, and she held out her hand to stop me. She said, “Mr. Lechuga, I was intent on sending you to prison today, but I've seen many lives get ruined by heroin, and long prison sentences. I want you to go to rehab, and I'm going to keep close tabs on you. Please don't disappoint me, Mr. Lechuga.”
I was so relieved, so grateful. My lawyer then said, “I was only giving you a hard time because I wanted to see if you really wanted help. I knew the whole time that your Judge was going to give you probation. I'm not angry with you, Mr. Lechuga. It's your chance to start a new life, so don't screw it up.” My lawyer was testing me the whole time, and I started putting together our conversation. This made me realize that he really was only testing me.
I went to rehab, got out, but went to prison for a probation violation a year later. I did three years. And now I'm out, and I'm sober. I'm happier than I've been all of my life. Also, I'm very grateful to the prison system for helping me get my GED, and allowing me to take some classes in which I learned the tools for staying sober in the free world.It’s not because my lawyer was so good, but because of his actions in the courtroom that my jaw actually did drop.
In 1998 I was hit by a car driven by an elderly blind driver while I was training for a triathlon. It was the end of my cycling career. It took me two years just to learn to walk again, and it was about at the end of this time when the case came to trial.
I didn’t have a lawyer in those days, living blissfully in a world where I believed if you lived a good life lawyers were just leeches. But while I laid in the hospital with plasma dripping from my many wounds my boss came to visit me and gave me the name of a torts lawyer he knew. I ended up in his office on crutches and he appeared before me in a dark, conservative suit and tie and a grave expression on his face. In a large conference room filled with leather and oak he asked me pointed questions and for a description of the incident. He took notes. His assistant did all kinds of lawyer things. He told me to get ready for the long haul - that sometimes these cases took as many as seven years to conclude. His most memorable expression was, “The law cannot give you your health back. The best substitute for that is money, and it’s a poor substitute.” He also disabused me of the notion that I would end up with “millions” as people think they will after an accident. A dirty little secret of the insurance industry is that they only pay up to the amount of insurance a driver is required to carry. In Massachusetts, the minimum is 100,000 - but the maximum is about 300,000 (plus expenses). If you want more, then you have to go after their other assets, such as their bank accounts, house, car and so forth and each additional step requires more time and legal expense and the system is stacked against the person suing. Even if you win, as I discovered, the insurance company absolutely will not pay. “For every day they don’t pay,” he said, “they are making money on the money they owe you. It’s to their advantage to delay it as much as possible.” Even after I won it took almost a year to get the money from the sleazebags at Liberty Mutual and I only got it when we sued the woman’s homeowner’s insurance and that insurance company in turn sued Liberty Mutual. It was like pulling teeth, with all kinds of deceptive offers. When I was first hit by the car, someone from Liberty Mutual showed up at my house and offered to “buy me a new bike” if I signed a document absolving them of liability.
The first day of court happened to be my first day without crutches. I was so happy that I wanted to show that I could walk. Because it was court, I put on my best suit and tie, shined my shoes and staggered to the court house. I still thought it would be like television. Instead it was a bedlam of screaming children and strollers, single parents, fat court police, metal detectors and stunk of sweat and body odor. The oaken panels of the courtroom were defaced with grafitti and carvings from the multitudes who had sat waiting and bored in the audience and docks for hours for their turn at justice.
When I saw my lawyer I was astounded to see him in a loud, hounds tooth sport coat and a stained tie, which was askew even though it was only 9 AM. Where was the well-groomed, conservatively-dressed lawyer I had met in a richly-appointed office? When he saw me, he immediately got angry. “Where are your crutches?,” he asked me impatiently, “Go get them and don’t let me ever see you without them again.” I had to worm my way through the throngs of check kiters, welfare cheats and shoplifters to my car to get the crutches.
One thing about the “Justice System” in America - when a man commits a crime it’s his wife/girlfriend and children who suffer the most. It was like a face slap watching them “clear the court”. Almost all the people I saw were young, in their early 20s and every crime I saw was a crime of desperation where people were robbing Peter to pay Paul, or usually, feed their children. There were no jewel heist masterminds, no gun-toting back door men kicking in doors. There were no murderers or kidnappers. I was the only “civilian” in the court wearing a suit. Nearly every single person I was with in the court while waiting my turn was a gray, beaten-down, marginally-educated loser with a blue collar job and his family and screaming babies who watched him “pay the Bailiff” or get a court date.
When it was my turn the court was nearly empty. Everyone else had been dealt with, swiftly and without explanation. When they tried to explain something to the Judge, they were told “See the Bailiff” and dragged off. This wasn’t really a trial court, just one to ascertain how the case should be disposed, fine or trial, remand or release. The Prosecutor was an Assistant DA who looked like a fifteen-year-old boy in a suit. The woman who hit me looked like a fat, matronly grandmother dressed in mourning black and weeping into a handkerchief. Her lawyer did all her speaking for her. Unlike my lawyer, who was slumped in the bench, this lawyer actually did wear a suit, a wrinkled, frumpy suit. The Prosecutor laid out the case and I was in awe - he knew more about it than I did. The State knew everything. Later I would go shake his hand. The woman had been charged with a felony - reckless endangerment - and lots of civil driving crimes. The Judge was about 150 years old, with wispy white hair going in all directions on his head. He slumped over the bench like a man at a bar who had one too many boilermakers and I thought he was dead. On either side of him the flag of the state and country hung like dishrags in the oppressive heat and humidity of the courtroom. But for me this was electric - my case, my turn, my life. For everyone else, from the sleepy, immensely fat court police officers with their bellies hanging over their gun belts, to the bored lawyers who had done this a thousand times, it was a tedious formality they had to do to get through every day.
The prosecutor outlined the case. The woman, standing in front of the judge weeping, waited while her lawyer defended her. Her defense was that it was “my fault” she hit me. In less time than I could imagine the Judge banged the gavel and found her responsible and “See the Bailiff”. Suddenly, my lawyer was animated, and on his feet. He hadn’t said a word during the entire proceeding, simply slumping in the hard wooden chair next to me. But as soon as the gavel pounded the bench he leaped up and started punching the air. “Yes!,” he hissed out, “Yes!” I looked at him in jaw-dropping amazement. “I know you don’t understand,” he said to me ebulliently, “But this is an enormous victory. Judges almost never find old people guilty of anything - they’re old too. They relate. But his finding her guilty kicks the legs out from under the insurance company. They can’t fight us in court. They have to pay. We win! We win!”
For him it meant he would get his 1/3 cut in two years instead of seven and he didn’t have to waste time sending motion after motion to get the insurance company to pay. As it was, it still took a year of motions to get the money out of them. I never saw the lawyer again. After that it was all clerks who handled the settlement. I don’t even remember his name.
Publish your written work & win cash prizes up to Rs. 5 lakhs.
Well …
I’ve never actually met him, just heard the story.
It’s now 14 year(ish) ago, when a few members of a small fraternity in Leuven got into bit of a tight spot.
First things first: those fraternities aren’t like the ones you know in America, there is no political influence, there aren’t houses that are property of the fraternity and everything goes.
Basically, the existence of those clubs started to just group students that were a bit homesick together, so they would be able to talk to people in the same dialect, share stories about shared friends at home, …
Nowadays, they’re more an excuse to go out, have fun, drink, sing and enjoy the last years before joining the working force.
That being said, one evening, two of their newest members went home after a meeting, preparing for a one-week hangover, when they pass the site where they were building a new administrative building for the city.
Hey, look, there are bulldozers and such over there!! Let’s go check if we can sit in them!
Let it be noted that students, especially when having only 1.2 ml blood in their alcohol, are usually not known to make the world’s smartest decisions. So, in they went, and they managed to get in two machines, similar to these:
let’s call this one ‘Bull’.
and this one ‘Roll’.
Even in their far-from-sober condition, it didn’t take both youngsters long to figure out both machines still had the keys on them, so they decided to take them for a ride.
Now, mind you, this was 2, maybe 3 am in the morning, and not at all far from people’s residences, people getting mad because they had to go to work the day after, calling the police to complain:
Is this a frickin’ hour to work on that stupid building? Seriously, we won’t be mad if it takes an additional day to build, but I need my sleep!
It didn’t take the boys-in-blue long to get an image of what was going on, and they would quickly turn up, several car, the flashy lights on.
At this moment, the kid driving Bull thought to himself:
Crap, the cops!! I gotta get out of here!!
He turned off the engine, got out of the bulldozer as fast as he could and started running. Seeing as he was still drunk, quite obvious he didn’t make it very far.
The kid driving Roll figured:
Crap, the cops!! I gotta get out of here!!
Instead of getting out of the vehicle, he drove it over the fence ‘guarding’ the site, and drove off. Now, he closed the cabin from the inside, so that way they couldn’t get him out (unless he opened up). He drove for a few hundred meters, where they blocked his way by crossing the road with two police cars. which looked a bit like this:
Now, in my opinion, there wasn’t much else they could do, but they had rather be grateful the kid had sobered up a bit and hit the brake.
Now, the police apprehend both suspects, and are all very proud of a nights good work, making sure that “justice will be served”.
The company that was working on the building immediately pressed charges against both students, which could lead to serious problems later on in life.
Sure, they shouldn’t have done this, but in the end, there was no real victim here. Nobody got hurt, sure the fences should be paid for, and some people lost about an hour of sleep, which is annoying, but no really a capital offence.
So, those kids were a bit down on their luck, when the president of their club received a phone call from one of their alumni, who was currently working as a lawyer.
Guys, this was freaking hilarious!! Don’t worry about the charges, I’ll deal with those.
And, for the students, that was about all she wrote.
So, the next day, the lawyer of the story, still grinning about a couple of drunk kids doing what they do best: proving to the world that they are, in fact, a couple of drunk kids, walks up to the offices of the company that is suing them, and asks if he can speak with someone to discuss the case of his clients.
Lawyer: Hi, I’m the lawyer representing students X and Y, and am here to see if we can discuss their case.
Guy (don’t know a name or function here): Well, though we do appreciate you coming all the way over here, there’s really not much to discuss that won’t be handled in court.
Lawyer: Surely, there might always be the case of mistaken identity of at least one of my clients. Considering the way they were handled by the police, as far as I have been informed they did not ask for identification, nor did they take fingerprints. For them, the case was not all that serious, but this means that your best shot at proving my clients were even on your site, is debatable at best.
Guy (looks around): Listen, sir, you must understand that we do understand the situation of a university city… There are tons of impossibly drunk characters roaming around, so we make sure to secure our sites, both with fences and state-of-the-art security cameras. For, there is no doubt of the guilt of your clients.
Lawyer (still trying to save something ) But surely there is room for mistakes here. Those camera’s must really be at the exact correct angle, moment, … to show their faces.
Now, the guy understood that the lawyer was just doing his job, but he started to pity him a bit. After all, this was a poker-game where the company had a Royal Flush, while the lawyer couldn’t even dream to get a hand together that could possibly meant anything.
Guy: You know what, I’ll show you what we have. That way you’ll know our case is solid, and you won’t have to spend hours on trying to deal with this case.
He guides the lawyer, whose face has become a little more grim, to a room where they have a TV with a player. The guy pops in a DVD (or a VHS, don’t remember which one exactly), and presses play.
Unfortunately for our two nightly drivers, this wasn’t just a security system for those days. It was one like they appeared in the movies. You know it was possible to make something like that (or at least it would be in the near future), but nobody had surveillance like this. Very decent quality, focus on movement, and moving camera’s. Long story short, they had over a dozen good pictures of our two heroes, entering the lot, getting in the vehicles, actually finding the keys and driving off.
Guy: You see, sir, there is really nothing you can do here. It’s quite obvious of even the first images, that it were in fact your clients, and that they were drunk off their ass. They trespassed on the site, got in the machines and started driving around. Later on, one of them drove the roll over the fences.
Besides all of the nuisance for the neighbors, this gave us additional costs of several thousands of dollars. Your clients are responsible for this.
Debating that is pointless, you see, we’ve got a video that proves all of this.
Needless to say, the lawyers face looked as if he had spend the last five years in a blizzard, and just heard ‘bad news was on the way’.
Lawyer: Yeah … I see … I guess … Nyeah. [Moment of silent thinking] Could I please have a copy of the video? That way, I can add it to my files as well, in case my clients would want to sue me for not doing everything I can.
Guy: Visibly cheering up, because the lawyer seems to take it well, and doesn’t seem to be even willing to put up a fight:
Sure, I’ll get you a copy, it’ll only take a minute. In the meantime, please, enjoy this coffee. I understand that this is quite a setback for you.
So, for a few minutes, the crushed, defeated and broken shell of a man, that was formerly known as ‘lawyer representing students X and Y’, just sits there, drinks his coffee in silence, and waits for his copy of the video.
Guy: Here is your copy of the footage sir. With our compliments.
Lawyer, while handing back his cup: Thanks. Now, about those charges….
When exactly were you planning on dropping those? You understand that my clients are just two kids, they really don’t need all this additional stress, especially not with exams coming up.
Guy, totally baffled: Excuse me sir, I think you still don’t really understand the situation, and the gravity of the consequences for your clients.
Lawyer: No, my friend. I understand the situation just fine, it’s you that don’t seem to understand. Let me walk you through it.
At the beginning of our meeting, you mentioned that you were aware that it is a university city, and that (I quote) “ There are tons of impossibly drunk characters roaming around, so we make sure to secure our sites, both with fences and state-of-the-art security cameras.” Next, you go on to not only tell me, but to proceed a high-definition video footage of both my clients, of whom we both agree can easily be seen that they are, in fact, as you mentioned, ‘drunk off their ass’, and still they made it on your companies site unattended. The security of that site is not an optional task for your company. You are bound by law to make sure that it is secure. Seeing as they managed to get in there, in their condition, that only goes to show that your company obviously failed to meet the legal requirements.
Now, in one of the next takes, we see that both boys find the keys of those machines on them. In legal terms, this is considered provocation, which is punishable by law.
If your company had bothered to respect the law, and their legal duties, my clients would have never made it on your site, let alone cost you a cent.
So, let me put it this way: If by this time tomorrow, my clients have not been informed that every single charge against them is dropped, and this is nothing more but an awkward memory, I will start pressing charges for your infringements on the law, causing my clients to make theirs.
This will lead to your company losing this contract, and probably several more in time to come, and it will lead to you being considered the original guilty party in the case of my clients. And, just so you know:
Debating that is pointless, you see, I just happen to have a video that proves all of this.
Followed by a dramatic exit, leaving the ‘Guy’ standing there speechless.
In less than five hours, his clients received news that ‘all charges would be dropped’, and the case was now dismissed.
The worst they had left from it, was a few mocking nicknames that stuck for a few months.
Yes. Not one, but 2 actually. One is my childhood friend’s dad. He was a prosecutor, then a federal prosecutor, then i think went into private practice after that. Where he defended everyone from outlaw motorcycle clubs, to members of the mafia. He was offered a seat as a federal judge, even. After 40 years of practice retired. The other was/is a divorce attorney. I went to her office to try and get this person to represent me in my own divorce. After talking with her for barely 10 minutes….i was sobbing in front of her. She’s beyond good, excellent! Had me pegged from “Nice to meet you.” pretty much. Describing the list of demands that i would have to do on my end of the deal. I quickly realized that i had just picked the female version of the “Bruce Lee” of divorce attorneys and there was NO WAY i could keep up. I eventually asked how she got into law practice, and she unbelievably told me from begining to present moment in front of her desk. I think that she is so good at what she does , because from what she told me… she got so beyond royally screwed during her divorce, that it literally drove her to study law. Almost like a kind of revenge. Her own experience with the divorce courts fueled her in her fighting for her clients. Which were mostly millionares, or multi millionares that mistakenly married, or got pregnant, then married the opposite sex under some kinda duress. She even at one point paused, looked me right in the eye, and said “I’m not going to tell you what i’m about to say next to brag. But i pick and choose my clients more strictly because i have more than i can just about handle. Don’t believe me?” I followed her eyes to the side of her desk, and to the floor. There were stacks and stacks of cases pending like newspaper bundles all neatly in their places starting evenly with where her desk started, all the way behind her, to the wall. All her filing cabinets were full. All pending cases! I’m no millionare, not by a longshot. For me to have a million bucks today, i would need $999,940.oo. All i got is $60.oo on me as we speak. And even that i had to borrow to make it till the begining of next month. At the time i had consulted her proffessional advice, i had a union job, was pulling in over $50–60,000.oo per year. Like Henry Hill says at the end of “Goodfellows”, “and now…it’s all over.” That’s my true life story of meeting an attorney that made my jaw drop…not once, but twice.
Experience your favorite novels through audiobooks on Audible.
As a lawyer, have you ever had a dangerous encounter with a client?
As a lawyer, have you ever hinted or told your client they should just run?
As a lawyer, did you ever come across another lawyer who thought they were too good, but they actually weren't?
I have a para legal from Bangalore Rama who handles my tenants court issues. This lady is very highly intelligent and smart. Her son and DIL also are criminal lawyers. First time, she handled this Pakistan tenant. She didn’t utter a word and we won the case. She prepared the file and presented so beautifully that, judges didn’t have any choice but to insult my tenant and warn him not to do it again to next landlord.
Second time, when the Jamaican lady tenant took me to court for her greediness for money. My lawyer was literally shocked and scared to see this ladies monster face and green eyes (fake). She turned to me and asked how did I get in such a dangerous social welfare fake mental health issues mess. When the date came, she was stressed, praying hard and scolding me not to help crying scammers etc. Then she suddenly took decision to put intermediate to sort out because the court had too many suing tenants.
When our turn came to negotiate, Jamaican lady got first shock that, I have a lawyer. She never dreamed that, I would hire a lawyer. Secondly, the intermediate person was also from Jamaica so, they knew, they cannot win against a lawyer so, we negotiated and settled down for $1500 plus one month to search another accommodation. She accepted eviction which went into her record. She begged to stay for 6 months but we said no. My jaws dropped the way, my lawyer called her on negotiation table and evicted her thro intermediator. My tenant was glowing with happiness and victory of receiving $1500 but she didn’t know my ace card up my sleeve. We walked away and after she left on the last day. After few days, I used my ace card and called social welfare to tell them to take out $2000 from her bank account because she got rent from social welfare. She cannot enjoy double money like this of taxpayers account.
The social welfare people must have black listed her for trying to cheat on $2000. Now she won’t get social welfare lifetime. She deserves whatever she gets and more. KARMA.
This time around, before I went to prison, I was in Dallas County. I was going back and forth to the court upstairs to talk to my lawyer. I was told that the DA wanted to take me to trial and file a Habitual on me. This means that they wanted to give me a lot of time for being a repeat offender. At first, my lawyer was rude and would yell at me “You're going to do a lot of time! These people are not playing anymore. If you don't sign for five years right now they are going to file a Habitual.”
Me: “Look, I have a drug problem. I've been struggling with anxiety for most of my life, and this is why it's hard for me to stay away from opiates.”
Lawyer: “Do you honestly think that the DA is going to buy that crap?”
Me: “Sir, you act like you're working for the fucking prosecutor. Are you on my side or their side?”
Lawyer: “I've seen guys like you come and go all of their lives, and it's always the same, sad story. If I was you, I would just sign for the five years and run with it. You'll be out in two years, no problem.”
Me: “You don't give a flying fuck what happens to me! You just want to get this over with so that you can get a check.”
Lawyer: “Are you aware that I took your case Pro-Bono ? I have my own law firm, and a few lawyers under me. Do you even have any idea who I am? I'm trying to help your ass, boy!”
Me: “Why are you so fucking rude? You didn't even ask me if I was innocent. Is it my tattoos, the fact that I'm in a detox dorm?”
Lawyer: “Look, I didn't even know that you were in detox. What type of drugs do you use?”
Me: “Did you even read the police report? See, you don't even know that. How am I supposed to trust you? I'm not signing for any time. If you're going to keep insisting that I plead guilty and sign for time, I'm going to refuse your counsel.”
Lawyer: “I'll tell you what you can do: You can go in there and do an open - plea.”
Me: “Open plea?! Are you fucking crazy? I'll get the maximum if I go open plea! You're just trying to get me out of the way, just like all the other guys. You're no different. My life is not a game of cards, and I sure as hell don't want to take that gamble.”
Lawyer: “Look, this judge is known for sending inmates to rehab if they ask for it. If you really want to change your life, go open plea, and tell her that you want help. You have a better chance to get probation with rehab as one of your stipulations.”
Me : “OK, let's get this over with right now.” I waited about an hour in a cold holding cell with no blanket and an empty stomach. They wake us up at 4: 30 a.m. to go to court in Dallas County.
When my lawyer came back out, he said, “She's ready for you Mr. Lechuga. Go in there, and be honest. Don't mess this up, be respectful, and don't answer any questions that have not been asked. This judge has a very short fuse.”
Me: “What are my chances of receiving rehab with probation? Be honest!”
Lawyer: “You have a fifty-fifty chance.” I was placed in handcuffs and my hands were strapped to a leather belt around my waist. I was very nervous, and I felt a panic attack coming on. I was hyperventilating, I was scared, I was hungry, and I was sleepy. As soon as the officer walked me through the court room door, my lawyer waved him off and took me by my arm. The judge was a pretty, petite black woman, and she was smiling. I had the oddest feeling that everything was going to work out for me. My lawyer looked me in my eyes and said, “Don't worry Mr . Lechuga. Everything's going to be fine.”
The judge admonished me about my rights, explained that I was at the mercy of the court, and asked me if I was OK with this. She looked at me with a penetrating gaze, but instead of feeling afraid, I felt a peaceful blanket cover me. I was no longer cold, I was no longer sleepy. The judge said, “Mr. Lechuga, why are you here today?” As soon as I heard this, I started bawling and talking really fast. I was sniffling in between words as she paid close attention. The judge picked up a napkin and wiped a tear off of her cheek, and she held out her hand to stop me. She said, “Mr. Lechuga, I was intent on sending you to prison today, but I've seen many lives get ruined by heroin, and long prison sentences. I want you to go to rehab, and I'm going to keep close tabs on you. Please don't disappoint me, Mr. Lechuga.”
I was so relieved, so grateful. My lawyer then said, “I was only giving you a hard time because I wanted to see if you really wanted help. I knew the whole time that your Judge was going to give you probation. I'm not angry with you, Mr. Lechuga. It's your chance to start a new life, so don't screw it up.” My lawyer was testing me the whole time, and I started putting together our conversation. This made me realize that he really was only testing me.
I went to rehab, got out, but went to prison for a probation violation a year later. I did three years. And now I'm out, and I'm sober. I'm happier than I've been all of my life. Also, I'm very grateful to the prison system for helping me get my GED, and allowing me to take some classes in which I learned the tools for staying sober in the free world.
0 Comments